


The Quietus of Olympus

by Anonymous



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arson, Betrayal, F/M, Gen, Illnesses, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poisoning, Suicide, The Age of Demigods have come, Villain Demigods, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29854623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: And the clock striked 12, Dionysus choked.Hermes disappeared. Apollo fell ill. Artemis' golden blood was spilled. Hephaestus burned. Aphrodite commited suicide. Athena and Ares battled to death.Demeter wilted into a coma. Persephone ate her seeds and slept eternally. Poseidon drowned. Hera was murdered. Zeus gasped for his last breath.And the eldest —Hades and Hestia, jumped in Tartarus.
Relationships: Ariadne/Dionysus (Percy Jackson)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**The Quietus of Olympus**

* * *

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

The sound repeatedly resonated within the cave of the Oracle. Rachel sat at the three-legged stool, soul drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness. She tried her best to forebear the incoming warning from the Future without turning insane.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

The clock abruptly stopped.

Rachel’s mind was seized by the ancient power of Prophecy. Her dull eyes glowed green, mist emanated from her. No, she wasn’t possessed yet. She still had the gripping sanity of her life. She saw how the hollow space of her chamber metamorphosed into a stained-white hall.

Whispers floated, one by one, the Oracles from the beginning of time and up to the present generation appeared before her. Lips were sewn shut but Rachel heard their pleas.

_The gods are dying._

_Their power is weakening._

_Their time will end soon._

_The children will succeed._

“There is knowledge before you, yet you refuse them.” A clear voice cut sharp through the air, silencing the entire hushes and songs of the ghosts surrounding her. The apparitions began to disappear as the lady who spoke walked nearer and nearer to the present Oracle.

Rachel wanted to run, she knew where this was going. But her nerves were intact and controlled by the divine power instilled on her the moment she became Apollo’s prophetess. The woman’s atmosphere was primordial and powerful, every step she took were like death bells ringing on the room. Her eyes were bright and gleaming, obviously portraying wisdom unlikely of her physical form. The way she carried herself with confidence and dignity reminded Rachel of someone else.

Rachel’s body moved without her will, kneeling and bowing before the goddess. _No, she seemed more powerful than that._

“Clear sighted mortal, granted with the Future’s blessing, why do you abstain from the voices of the tomorrow?” The divinity questioned. For once, Rachel regained her senses and bearing over her body.

“Who are you?” Countered Rachel.

“I am the Mother of all Oracles. I held the power over Delphi before my traitorous grandson, snatched it.”

Rachel felt the puzzle pieces connecting. Perhaps, she knew it but again, denied the reality.

The grandmother of Rachel’s patron god. The first and foremost Oracle of Delphi. 

“The Greeks called me Phoebe.” She answered. “But enough of my identity, don’t you hear the sacred spring talking to you?”

“You’re working with _them.”_ Rachel spat. Quickly, the Titan flicked her fingers and Rachel’s dainty mouth was shut off. Phoebe strolled back and forth in front of her.

“Anyone wise would do so. But they need you.” She paused. “Now, do not deny the visions. It is a gift.” Rachel was powerless before the goddess. As soon as the Prophetess concentrated those eccentric blue orbs at the poor, young, Oracle, the Future was drawn out to her. Vividly, and with more realism, unlike the small talks of information back at her cave. Here, Rachel was brought to the future, out of her own will.

The whispering began again, but the voices did not shout out lines for the morrow. They simply counted down, in unison. Each time a number was spoken, the scene shifts and changes.

_Twelve._

Mr. D was on the floor, unable to breathe.

_Eleven._

A god stares out in pure terror as his shoes were beaten. Rachel assumes he was Hermes.

_Ten._

She saw her patron god Apollo, the divinity who granted her this magic, this curse, lying on a bed. Suffering, and in pain. Beside him was his twin sister, holding his hand to death.

_Nine._

A golden arrow was shot through Artemis’s forehead. Rachel screams.

_Eight._

Rachel was inside a room lit on fire, she witnessed as one of the Seven bolted fire at his Father, Hephaestus. The god of fire was reduced to ashes.

_Seven._

A goddess fought with a spear on another god, who battled her with a sword. They were both agile and relentless, dogs of war. She cannot be mistaken –Athena and Ares.

_Six._

The most beautiful and ethereal woman, Aphrodite, slid a blade at her wrist. The tears finally rolled down from Rachel’s eyes.

_Five._

Demeter slept on the ground, the grass wilting beneath her. Rachel was transported to a dark, gloomy place, where she met Demeter’s daughter, Queen of the Underworld. Persephone was eating pomegranate seeds and dwindling.

_Four._

Under the sea, Poseidon was struggling to breathe. She recognized Percy at the corner, smirking. _No, no, this can’t be happening…_

_Three._

There was a knife plunged in to a woman who wore a broken crown. Queen Hera was dying.

_Two._

Beside the corpse Hera was Zeus, reaching out his hand to somebody. Someone Rachel knew, the Son of Jupiter. But Jason just watched him and laughed. Rachel knelt and covered her ears.

_One._

Another god and goddess were at the edge of a cliff. They were holding hands as they jumped in the chasm. Hades and Hestia. The last ones.

“STOP THIS! PLEASE!” Rachel begged and wailed. Immediately, she was brought back to her cave. Panting heavily and shaking. Green eyes widening and static. Her head was aching. For a brief moment, she felt she lost herself.

A familiar person entered her solitary nook, Rachel looked up.

“Percy.”

“Come, it’s the Age of Demigods.”


	2. 12th Hour

_Since when had the party gone wilder?_ Dionysus thought as the adrenaline gushed down his stream and his senses’ accuracy upgraded even more. The remix of Black Eyed Peas was loudly blaring from the tall amplifiers of the four corners of the area. The blinding, colorful lights blinked harsher as the people swayed their bodies harder. More mortals filled in and made the place slicker, hotter and better. He even had a few conversations with the top-notch ladies but stopped for a while. He could feel Ariadne’s presence in the complex. She liked parties as much as he does.

They never met though. Sure, there was a particular glow on the other side, the god was definite it was his wife. But they had a rule: “The first one to approach the other gets suspended from parties and any outside meetings for a year.” Not only did Zeus have taken a century of his freedom, Dionysus did not want to suffer under his darling wife’s punishment game. A year may be short for gods but the craving of being wild cannot escape the God of Wine and Ecstasy.

He checked his Timex digital watch, the numbers’ luminescence shouting: 11:38 PM. _Still early._ He was sitting lazily in the high chair before the bartender’s granite desk. He threw some glances around Ariadne, checking if there was any idiotic, puny bastard ready to put their filthy hands on her. Luckily, there were none or else the aquarium’s space wouldn’t be enough for one dolphin.

“Quite a night, isn’t it?” Asked the formally-suited wine contender. Dionysus turned, pulling out dollars from his pocket.

“I’ve seen better.” _Nights at Olympus_. He handed the man his money and bid, “A shot of tequila.”

“Very well, sir.”

The waiter went to the opposite edge of the counter, where a stranger slinked by and discreetly passed a bottle to the bartender. Said man took it and added it in his concoction as secretively as he could, remembering the words from his employer: “Only a few drops, he wouldn’t notice it anyway. Your pay is already in your back account the moment he sips it.”

Squeezing a cherry in the liquid, he poured the alcohol in a shot and served it right away.

“You took longer.” Dionysus stated. He stared at the drink then back to the man; without noticing that the Goddess of Frenzies, Ariadne, was also observing them from afar. Nonetheless, the atmosphere was merry and this is a party- his domain. He couldn’t care less for any late service of a middle-class club. His thumb and forefinger clasped the rim of the glass and raised it up to his lips, the mixture inside emptying in a single shot.

The burning sensation sizzling his throat was good. But seconds later, a chilling tingle spammed in his entirety, freezing him entirely. His chest felt like it exploded, his throat now is sore like every air inside of him was vacuumed from the outside. His violet eyes were dilating. His young cheeks were colored between purple and blue. Every inch of him hurt like Tartarus, even if he had never experienced it before. He did not even have the chance to teleport and transform into a real life-size god.

Everything happened way too fast, the noise and screams hushing to a murmur and whispers. Gasps were heard. Him, tumbling down from his seat, sight black and cold, comprehending that _oh, I am falling. I am drowning._ A series of strides were marching upon him. His head cradled into a soft lap, he remembers this feeling. This is Ariadne.

“A-aria-“

“Hush, Dionysus. We’ll get you to Apollo.” She comforted. Her eyes darted at the suppose bartender standing at the counter, but he was gone. His escape was perfect and flawless. Ariadne vowed to find that man and turn him into a leopard, one that she will hunt and sew its skin into a carpet she could place in their living room. Dionysus started coughing, like something was blocking his passage of air.

Ariadne had to control the Mist and at the same time, put her basic godly healing powers into use. But suddenly, his grape-like irises went into shock and stilled. The trembling body refrained its actions. His warm hand that mysteriously reached up her ear cascaded to the ground. His life was dwindling before Ariadne’s teary gaze, but he told himself it was worth it if he died in her arms.

Ariadne screamed, almost illuminating, almost bursting, almost killing these hundred people around her. But she realized that was how Semele, her mother-in-law, died, by the radiation and brilliance of a god’s true form. She couldn’t let that happen to these mortals, she used to be one.

The clock stroked twelve, Dionysus choked his last breath.

* * *

The employer snidely and expertly sneaked out of the cranky bar as soon as the god Dionysus plunged in his toxic drink. He was never for the parties, anyway. His hiding was perfectly scaled. If Dionysus somehow managed to survive the whole ordeal, the divine will blame the waiter. And as the waiter tries to plea his way out of this, he will point his fingers at the nonexistent mastermind.

His foot tapped the concrete ground of the city. _One…two…three._ He started to get impatient. _Did he get caught? Where is he? Maybe he’s a sucker for escaping unlike me. I now realize that being a demigod has its perks other than being toy soldiers for gods._ He turned to the Empire State Building, wondering how much chaos this incident will bring.

“Sir, the poison worked. Where’s my pay?” Bulging from the shadows, the worker closed the fire exit. The boss swiveled his head, a ghastly smirk casted upon his pale pink lips. He flicked his fingers. _One…two…three_. Another man jumped out from the corner, a blade in his hand thrusting the back of the human.

A gasp escaped from the poor dying mortal, his brown eyes displayed utter betrayal. Blood gushed from his mouth, trailing down the cold pavement. The situation has risen to red alert. Dionysus is dead, the one who served him the venom is dead. It will only be a matter of seconds before the high gods above were in a distressing mood of turmoil.

“Too bad, Castor didn’t join this. He’s missing out the fun.” The blade held in the murderer’s hand glinted in the dark as he positioned himself nearer to the so-called ‘leader’ of this mission. His older twin brother, Travis Stoll.

“Connor, no time to pity others. We should escape by now. Things will get busy.” Travis said and had a last long stare at the corpse his brother made. He held out his hand at his younger brother, Connor took it without hesitation. They had a synchronized thought as screams of bloody Tartarus erupted from the Club. 

“The Demigod Age will come.”

Their bodies faded from the scenes before the whole world can escalate that a god is dead.

* * *

Each and every person who participated in a party, banquet, social gathering, meeting, celebration, feast, and any activity that involves a group and happiness abruptly halted their schemes and silenced. Nobody had a logical explanation why. It’s just that…everybody stilled. A moment of eerie quietness covered them. The pleasure, enjoyment and fulfillment that soared through their bloodstream slowly sapped out of them. Everyone grew tired of their own party, banquet, social gathering, meeting, celebration, feast and what-nots. They all said farewells and left, not knowing the reason for the sudden feeling of emptiness and hollowness.

Dolphins raised their heads above the sea and cried. Cheetahs of the forest awakened and howled. Mad humans regained sanity for a firm second. The actors and actresses of the theatrical plays had their minds blanked out. Them, struggling to find the memorized dialogues and lines.

In a vineyard, a lone farmer who was sweeping the fallen, crusted leaves scrunched his eyes as he intake the phenomena before him. The round, fruit of grapes one by one rocketed down from its bunch. The fruit metamorphosed into juice, absorbed by the soil. The green, stretchy plant faded to brown and ashes, becoming a part of the ground.

Demeter witnessed everything from above. The unaccounted wilting in the fields and crops of grapes brought her alarm as the Goddess of Agriculture. She gripped the reins of her wheat chariot and flew to Olympus.

As soon as her steeds landed on the grand palace, her essence diminished and travelled to the familiar place where the mighty Olympians congregate: The Throne Room. Zeus was on his dais when she arrived. Her brother stood up and approached her. Their eyes held steely gazes. The fire Hestia was tending burned even brighter in the night.

“Dionysus,” Demeter exhaled. A look of understanding passed between them.

“So it has started.” Zeus announced hesitantly. The Wheat Goddess can only stare at the marbled floor in shame. She grieved for his nephew as the white rice in the system turned black. _I cannot stomach the thought of Dionysus dying._ The mortals will not have plain rice for the meantime.

The golden double doors were pushed open as a figure strode. In her arms was her lover, husband and partner who recently left this world. The corpse evidently disappearing yet the silhouette of the body was still visible to the naked eye. He was translucent, like a ghost. Transparent.

“Ariadne,” Zeus forlornly called as he averted his sight towards his fading son. Ariadne knelt and laid her husband’s body in the cold floors of Olympus. The tear-tracks along her cheeks showed her own loyalty and devotion.

“NO!” She shrieked as the seat of the 12th Olympian began to disintegrate. Gods and Goddesses soon occupied the room, for once, calm and serene. Cooperative and working. The wails of the widowed goddess echoed throughout the room. Nobody scorned and judged her for they were also lost just like her asking: _Why, why, why?_

Nobody gave an answer too.

“I declare an emergency meeting for the Olympians. Lord Hades must join us as well.” Declared by the King. Said divinities went to their power of seats and sat gracefully, regally and quietly in respect for the god who was not with them today. Hestia churned the coals more to counter the breeze of midnight.

“Let the meeting commence.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fanfic I wrote back in 2015. And the quarantine tempted me to continue.


End file.
